


It's Not Simple to Say

by amethystfox



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Match
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystfox/pseuds/amethystfox
Summary: After the injustice of the match against Newcastle, it wasn't a surprise to see him. He just didn't know what he could do about it-- or wanted to do about it.
Relationships: Dele Alli/Eric Dier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	It's Not Simple to Say

27 September 2020  
London

  
  
  


Dele jumped when the front door to his house slammed shut, and he had to fumble to get his headset off without getting any more tangled in the cords. He wasn't expecting anyone-- not officially, anyway. But this-- this was a given. Dele had known with absolute certainty that he would come here.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he got up from his desk and made his way through the house, expecting to hear other sounds from the entryway to guide him, but the house was eerily still as he went down the front hallway.

Eric was leaning against the closed door, still in his training kit, his head tipped back against the door behind him, eyes closed. His jaw was clenched, and his brow was as stormy as Dele had ever seen it. Dele knew his friend well, could always read the stress in him, could practically see the anger radiating from him in waves.

Dele didn't say anything, just stopped and watched him. After a moment Eric sucked in a deep breath and let out an explosive sigh. "Del," he called, much more loudly than he would have if he had known Dele was already right there.

Dele winced. "Easy, no call to deafen me."

Eric's eyes flew open and he blinked at Dele. "Sorry. Didn't see you."

Dele shrugged. "Come straight here did you?"

Eric nodded, everything about his face full of tension. "Just couldn't stand it no more, being round everyone."

"Could've gone home, though."

"I didn't want to be alone either," Eric snapped, jerking his head in irritation. "Is it a problem? If you don't want me here, I'll go--"

"Easy," Dele snapped back. "Didn't say that either. Just wondering why you came here."

The storm on Eric's face darkened a little more. "I just said--"

"Right, yeah, didn't want to be around anyone but didn't want to be alone neither. I get that, but it still tells me nothing bout why you picked _here."_

"You're my friend," Eric said, sounding almost more bemused than angry.

"And that makes it my job to make you feel better about it?"

"I mean, no, 'course not, I…" Eric's anger was fading into confusion, even hurt as he had to unexpectedly defend himself against Dele.

"Did you ever think how it feels for me to watch a game like that and not have even been in the squad? Yeah, okay, you were robbed, it wasn't fair, but at least you were _in_ it."

"Del, I--"

"You've been so thick with Mourinho you've practically got a Portuguese accent," Dele shot back at him. It wasn't the right thing to say, wasn't helpful, none of this was. Dele knew he should care about that, should be comforting his friend, but suddenly everything was pressing in on him and it was too much. "He ever talk to you bout me? Ask you what's wrong with me?"

"No, of course not."

"You've been in _every_ game so far," Dele said, and _fuck,_ his voice wobbled as he said it, and he hated the look in Eric's eyes, hated the pity in them. "I'm being shopped off to fucking PSG, or maybe Inter. I'm being binned, Eric, don't you see that?"

"I'm sorry," Eric said, and his eyes were too soft.

"Fuck that," Dele spat. "I'm trying to fight with you, Eric, quit apologising." 

Another person might have taken that as a cue to laugh, to dispel the tension, to play it all off as a joke, but not Eric. Dele could see the anger that was still there, battling for dominance with the pity. Dele wanted the anger to win out, wanted to have a proper row with Eric, but he knew already it wasn't going to happen.

"Look, Del, I'm sorry, I…" Eric looked almost sheepish when he realised what he had said.

Dele gave a short, bitter laugh. "And now I've gone and made you feel even worse than you already did, bitching about my own problems. Some friend I am, eh?"

"Look, I didn't come here for you to make me feel better," Eric said loudly in the first pause for breath Dele took. Dele stopped and raised an eyebrow at him in surprise.

Eric took a deep breath. "I just thought… I know it's been rough for you. After today, I just… if I have to feel like this, deal with this bullshit, then I'd rather do it with you. That's all."

Dele opened his mouth and closed it again a couple of times. "Oh," was all he could think to say.

Eric grunted. "Yeah."

They stood in silence for a long moment, Dele shoving his hands deeper in the pockets of his hoodie and staring at the floor.

"D'you… want to talk about it?"

"Fuck, no," Eric returned wearily. "I've done plenty of talking about it already, in the dressing room, to José, the refs, fucking everyone just had to have a word about it, and all I wanted to do was get away from them and have a scream. Finally did in the shower. Think I scared a few of the lads."

Normally Dele would have laughed at that, but he didn't have it in him right now. Instead he turned to head to the living room with a mind to collapse on the couch, put on something to ignore on Netflix, and just forget all of this for a while. "Come on, then," he said over his shoulder, noticing that Eric hadn't made a move to follow him.

Eric let out a sigh, as he had done when he had first gotten there, then toed off his trainers and padded after Dele in his sock feet.

"Hungry?" Dele asked as they landed on the couch, both stretching out their long legs in front of them and slouching down within arms reach of each other. Dele often liked to be able to be able to reach Eric when they would hang out, just for the comfort of having him nearby.

"Nah," Eric said, a little shortly, picking up the remote and scrolling slowly through Netflix. Dele was almost more concerned that Eric Dier, the human garbage disposal, wasn't hungry, than any of the rest of it.

"You're _always_ hungry," Dele said sceptically. Eric just shrugged.

"Could go for a drink, though. Got any beer?"

"'Course I do, but…" Dele hesitated, and Eric threw him a quick glare.

"If you try to tell me that I shouldn't…"

"It's just-- you actually have a future at this club, is all."

Eric's scowl softened, and he leaned closer to Dele and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"You'll get through this," Eric said quietly. "I know you will."

Dele snorted. "Yeah, and how the fuck do you know that?"

"'Cause I know _you,"_ Eric answered him, and his voice was entirely too soft again. Dele elbowed him away, rather harder than he probably needed to, but right now he couldn't stomach being pitied, couldn't handle Eric trying to make him feel better.

They put on some ridiculous show about a family in New Zealand that turned out to be the reincarnations of Norse gods, or something. Dele wasn't really paying much attention to it. He stared at the screen without seeing much of anything, listened without hearing the dialogue. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts, so trapped in his own head, that he didn't even notice when Eric got up and disappeared into the kitchen, only snapping back to reality when Eric dropped heavily on the couch next to him again and handed him a beer.

"Cheers," Eric said dryly, clinking the neck of his own beer against Dele's and taking a swig.

Dele blinked at the beer in his hand, then frowned at Eric.

"It's just one," Eric said mildly. "I promise. I just… I need to unwind, and obviously you do too."

Dele was fully prepared to unleash a glare on him, maybe snatch Eric's beer and down both of them, but Eric's eyes stopped him. There was something sad in them, something that made Dele just sigh, not wanting to make Eric look at him like that any longer than necessary.

"C'mon, Del," Eric said softly. "Please."

"You want to pretend like everything's fine, that's your business," Dele grumbled. "I don't think I can quite manage that tonight."

"Please," Eric repeated. "I can't stand to see you like this, talking like you're already out the door. Nothing's certain yet, and you know how fast things can change in football. Now that Sonny might be out for a while, maybe--"

"Ha," Dele said, a single biting syllable. "You know it's going to be all Stevie and Coco and Lucas. I might get a few minutes here and there, but unless I suddenly figure out how to turn back the clock--"

"Stop it," Eric said, and the pain in his voice caught Dele off guard. "Just _stop,_ for fuck's sake. I can't… can't take it."

Dele glanced sharply across as him, only to discover that his best friend was actually crying now. He had seen Eric cry before, but rarely enough that it left him stunned and speechless.

"You're _amazing,_ Del, you know you are," Eric said stubbornly. "Everybody has dips in form sometimes."

Dele opened his mouth, about to snap back with something sarcastic, but seeing Eric like this, this upset over Dele's problems, completely robbed him of whatever it might have been.

"I can't stand thinking about playing here without you," Eric mumbled, and he reached out as if to hook his arm around Dele again, to go for the closeness that used to be so easy for them, but he clearly remembered how Dele had pushed him away a moment ago, and he let his arm fall helplessly back into the couch cushion.

"Oh, for-- come here," Dele muttered, reaching for him, and the speed with which Eric had his arm around him again made Dele laugh-- actually laugh, a real one, not a bitter chuckle or a mocking snort. Eric squeezed him rather hard, and an actual smile flickered across his face.

They watched the show in silence for a while, shifting position occasionally, but no matter which of them fidgeted, it always seemed to result in them getting more tangled up together. It wasn't particularly strange for them to be like this, so tactile with each other; it had even been the norm for them, once. They had grown apart a little in the last year or so-- not any less friends, just not quite so… cuddly.

But tonight it seemed they both needed this again, to be physically close while they were both hurting so badly.

Dele was relaxing more than he had expected, enjoying being in close proximity to Eric like this. He was still too restless to be able to keep still, though, and he continued to fidget and squirm periodically-- not out of discomfort, just because he liked to shift and resettle against Eric, liked to remind himself that he was actually here.

He was tucked into Eric's side, nestled under Eric's heavy arm, when he shifted again and accidentally let out a sound he had never made around Eric before. He had inadvertently turned his body to face Eric's more than he had realised, hooking a foot over Eric's ankle, and now his crotch was pressed up against Eric's hip, and he had rubbed against Eric in a way that was new, unfamiliar, but it felt good enough that he didn't care, didn't even realise quite what was happening at first. Not until he made that noise, and Eric coughed to clear his throat.

"You okay, Del?"

Dele pulled away, just enough to ease the pressure, and he felt himself go red when he realised why it had felt so good. "Shit… sorry."

It wasn't the first time one of them had gotten hard around the other, but it had always been in a far more casual context before, easily put down to just the normal physical reactions that came with having a dick, not any particular arousal. But this was… different.

Eric didn't say anything for a while, but Dele could tell something was different, could hear a subtle change in Eric's breathing. It wasn't until Dele noticed the way the muscle in his thigh was tightening that he understood that Eric was hard too.

_What the hell is happening here?_

He probably should peel himself off of Eric, scoot away to his own side of the couch once more, before this-- whatever it was-- before this weird _thing_ between them got any worse. He squirmed a little, trying to indicate to Eric that he should lift his arm so that Dele could escape, but Eric only tightened his arm a little more.

Maybe he was just trying to ignore it. Maybe Dele should too, should pretend neither of them were hard, that there was nothing unusual in this particular cuddle. Maybe Eric was just as embarrassed as Dele was, and acknowledging the strange tension in the air would only make it worse.

_Okay, fine, I can do that,_ Dele thought, trying to tune back into the programme they had been watching, sending a sternly worded memo to his dick to calm down. Things would go back to normal, they'd move past this and start talking about the show, and--

The episode that was playing came to an end just then, though, and rather than start the next one the screen went dark and asked if they were still watching.

Dele wanted to grab the remote, start the next episode before things got any more awkward, but it was sitting on the coffee table, where Dele had no chance of reaching it unless Eric let him go.

"Eric," Dele mumbled, fidgeting.

"Hmm?"

"Can't reach the remote."

"So?"

"Won't start on its own," Dele pointed out. 

"Don't really care," Eric mumbled. "Do you?"

Dele didn't actually want to move, he realised with some surprise, but he was still nervous, still feeling uncomfortable about the odd vibe between them.

_And that's what you do when something seems weird or uncomfortable, isn't it. Pull away._

Dele shook his head, not sure where that thought had come from. Eric seemed to take it as an answer, though, and squeezed him tight for a moment. The squeeze brought Dele right up against him again, though, and Dele's dick pressed against Eric's hip again, and--

"Never heard you make a noise like that," Eric said, and his voice was almost unrecognisable: dark, silky soft. Dele flushed with embarrassment and tried to wriggle away, but Eric's arm around him was like an iron manacle, stopping him from moving.

"Eric, I-- c'mon, let go, I'm trying to apologise," Dele stammered.

"Why?" Eric asked bluntly, and Dele ducked his head and closed his eyes, trying not to let show just how flustered he was. _I'm supposed to be all cool and confident, aren't I?_

But this was Eric, and Eric knew better. If there was anyone Dele was comfortable enough with to let down the façade, it was him. He opened his eyes, about to take a deep breath and 'fess up to just how anxious this was making him, but the first thing he saw was the massive bulge in Eric's trousers, and all he could get was a weak, shallow gasp.

"You've not done anything to apologise for," Eric murmured, sliding his free hand up Dele's leg. Dele was nearly mesmerised watching it, up until he realised Eric didn't have any intention of stopping, not until…

"Okay," he said shakily, grabbing Eric's hand right before it slid over his dick. "I don't… know what's… what this is…"

"Doesn't have to be anything," Eric said quietly. "It's just… everyone already thinks we do this, you know? So…"

"So…?" Dele didn't have the slightest idea what he wanted the rest of that sentence to be.

Eric shrugged, the arm that was clamped around Dele somehow not giving even a little despite the motion. "So why not at least have some fun?"

"Fun," Dele echoed, feeling completely lost. "With all that's going on, you want to… have some fun."

Eric's breath hissed between his teeth. "Look, I'm trying to avoid being the stomping shouting guy, okay? I'm sick of being angry. Aren't you?"

Dele didn't know what to say to that. He had been so focused on being angry, trying to use that anger to fuel a return to form, that he didn't know what would happen if he just… decided he was sick of being angry. It was frightening and tantalising all in one.

"Maybe," he said, in a small voice that he hardly recognised as his own.

"So why not, then?" Eric said softly.

"How bout that it might wreck things?"

"It won't."

"You can't know that, Diet, can you though?"

"I trust you," Eric whispered. His hand twitched on Dele's leg, like he was having to fight to keep it still, and Dele sucked in a breath when he processed the vulnerability in Eric's voice.

_You trust me. Do I trust you?_

Dele wasn't conscious of making the decision, but he must have, because he let go of Eric's hand on his leg and reached instead for the maddening tent in Eric's trousers. Eric instantly slid his hand up, just covering that little bit of distance, and _fuck,_ his hand was on Dele's cock, squeezing a little, and a shiver went through him as two conflicting thoughts went through his mind.

_God, this feels so wrong._

_God, this feels so right._

Eric was rubbing his thumb in tiny, slow circles just at the tip of Dele's dick, making any further thought fly right out of his head, and he gave it up. Eric's dick completely filled his hand, hard as iron underneath the fabric of his joggers. Dele gave it an experimental squeeze, liked the way it twitched in his hand. It was strange to have a dick in his hand that wasn't his own, and he probably wouldn't be doing this if it was anyone else.

But it was Eric, who had always been more than just a friend to him. He suddenly wanted to just make Eric feel good, take away all the pain and frustration he had endured today, maybe forget a little of his own troubles as well. It wasn't enough, anymore, to touch Eric over his trousers; Dele slid his hand up to the waistband and tugged, got his fingers underneath, wormed his hand underneath the elastic. Eric groaned when Dele got his fingers around the shaft, and the heat of it in his hand made Dele let out a longing sigh.

"Fuck," he muttered, shifting to give Eric better access to undo his own trousers. In moments his fly was open and Eric's hand was disappearing inside his boxers, and _holy shit,_ the touch of Eric's hand on his dick was threatening to make Dele's eyes roll back in his head.

Eric gave a soft laugh. "Not today," he murmured. The implication there sent a shudder through Dele's whole body, but he shoved that thought away and focused on what was actually happening here, now, today.

It was hard to concentrate on keeping his own hand moving. Eric's hand was large and warm, the skin a little rough, nothing like how his own hand felt, or any girl that he'd been with. But it moved with skillful certainty, like Eric was following a set path, a plan he had made long in advance, and soon Dele was arching into his touch, gasping and making more of those needy little sounds, hardly aware of anything else in the world except for Eric's hand on him.

"Dele," Eric murmured in his ear. "You like that?"

Dele sucked in a shaky breath, not entirely certain he could form words at the moment. He nodded, vaguely aware that his own hand had stopped moving in Eric's pants, he couldn't keep going, the only thing that mattered right now was to keep thrusting into Eric's fist--

Dele dropped his head back, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and came with an unvoiced moan. Eric made a slightly strangled noise, and then he was on Dele, his cock thrusting urgently against Dele's limp hand, his mouth crashing down on Dele's with a suddenness that made Dele gasp. It didn't matter, not in that moment with the waves of pleasure washing over him. He rode out his orgasm with Eric's lips on his, but all too soon it was done, and he collapsed back against the sofa, panting and staring in shock at his best friend.

"What…" he gasped. "What was that?"

"Don't know," Eric mumbled, blushing. "Just… had to." He pulled his hand back out of Dele's pants and stared numbly at the cum dripping down it. Dele felt Eric's dick twitch in his hand and automatically closed his fist around it again, squeezing gently. Eric looked down at where Dele's arm disappeared under his waistband with a soft groan. "That's it, Del, just like that…"

Dele's head was spinning, he was shivering with aftershocks, but his hand was moving almost of its own volition now, determined to make Eric fall apart. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Eric's face now, couldn't get enough of the way Eric was biting his lip, sucking in shaky, shallow breaths, his eyelids fluttering closed…

Before he quite realised what he was doing he was moving, tipping his head to catch Eric's lips with his own, sighing when Eric groaned into his mouth. He tasted like beer and bitterness and Dele couldn't get enough. He didn't think he would ever be able to get enough of this, of the way Eric shuddered against him while he came with a sigh into Dele's hand, or the way his body went slack as soon as it was over, or the soft, sleepy smile Eric aimed at him, an instant before their lips met again.


End file.
